


i hope that it's you

by ourlovelybones



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:01:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22627519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ourlovelybones/pseuds/ourlovelybones
Summary: Even bends down and picks up a black plastic card, holding it between his fingers. Isak frowns himself until he realizes what it is. “Where’d you find that?”“Sticking out of the pocket of your jeans,” Even scoffs. “Did you even check your pockets last night before blaming me?”Isak’s about to indignantly huff that of course he checked his fucking pockets, when it occurs to him that he remembers next to nothing of last night except for their argument outside their hotel room. Where he whole-heartedly believed in the moment that Even was supposed to have been holding onto the room key and that his boyfriend had lost it when he didn’t find it in his pockets.And he most definitely did not check his.Isak gives him a sheepish grin. “I’ll do that thing you like in the shower?”[post-canon, when julie mentioned that isak and even moved to trondheim. bits of fluff, bratty and drunk isak. happy ending as always. based off of 'out of touch' by dove cameron :)]
Relationships: Even Bech Næsheim/Isak Valtersen
Comments: 22
Kudos: 139





	i hope that it's you

**Author's Note:**

> so i wrote this like three weeks ago for a private ship and then i liked it too much to just keep it sitting on my computer and tried to adapt it for my two public ships, hahah. 
> 
> ~10k words later, and here we go! based on the ethereally perfect song ‘out of touch’ by dove cameron x
> 
> thanks so much to my lovely sal (evamvhns on tweeter) for reading it ahead of time x

_you always forgive, how could i forget?_

_you’ve been in my bed when i need somebody_

_yeah i put you through some things, but at least it ain’t boring_

**_out of touch_ ** _x_ **_dove cameron_ **

He watches Even dancing from across the room, bathed in neon lights in the middle of some club surrounded by some of their other friends.

Or what Even claims is _dancing_ , but it looks more like his limbs are flailing wildly in the air, his head bobbing up and down off-rhythm to the thumping beat. Isak knows he’s not one to speak, so he just watches and raises his glass to his lips as the older boy tries to dance. In the dark, he sits with their other friends on a black leather couch at some club in Oslo that’s supposed to be “fun” and “exciting,” but nothing thrills him the way parties used to when he and the boys were back in high school.

He’s with Jonas and Mahdi, talking about God knows what on the other side of him sitting on a black leather couch, trying to pointedly ignore Magnus and Vilde. Even’s with their other friends, his cheeks pink from the heat or from the neon lights on the club floor. He had wanted Isak to dance with him but Isak told him that was the corniest thing he had ever heard of and bought another rum and coke instead. It might have come out with a bit more attitude than he intended, judging by Jonas’s not so subtle gasp.

Even had just raised his eyebrow, cocking his head to the side. His blue eyes traveled up and down Isak’s face, lingering on his lips as if he were going to kiss him instead of _dancing_. 

But he didn’t. He just winked at Isak, which foolishly infuriated the younger boy for some reason, before following Eva, Noora, Chris, Sana, Yousef, Mutta, Mikael, Adam, and Elias onto the dance floor. Eva’s drunkenly swaying over Noora, who’s trying to hold her up while balancing her own drink in her other hand. Yousef kept trying to show off his ‘moves’ to Sana, which didn’t look much better than Even’s noodle-dancing, but Isak gave him points for at least making Sana laugh.

“You should just go over to him,” Jonas says in his ear.

Once upon a time, his breath might have tickled Isak’s neck in a way that would have stopped his heart from beating but Isak doesn’t even realize he’s being spoken to until Jonas nudges him. He reluctantly tears his eyes away from their dancing friends. “What?”

“We can all feel the sexual tension from here,” the ever obnoxious Magnus slurs. His legs are draped over Vilde’s, who’s still kissing his chin as he speaks.

“There is no sexual tension,” Isak grumbles and rolls his eyes. 

“Yeah, and the sky isn’t blue,” Mahdi quips, causing Jonas and even Vilde to laugh. 

Isak makes a show of rolling his eyes again and finishes the rest of his drink. He stands up to get another one, ignoring how quickly the world spins as he does and the whirring noise in his ears. “There _isn’t_. I’ll be right back.”

The bartender, a cute dark-haired man with light stubble on his chin, smiles as he comes over. “What can I get you?”

Isak stares him down. “Rum and coke. Please.”

He adds the last word as more of an afterthought, after the bartender nods and turns to start mixing his drink. Isak looks back over his shoulder at Even, still enthusiastically attempting to dance. 

The entire night they had been at the club the bartender had been staring at Even, smiling at him unnecessarily. Isak swears he had even touched Even’s hand longer than he needed to when handing Even his drink and had his eyes on his boyfriend all night.

He hadn’t necessarily _wanted_ to go out tonight, hoping that his friends could want to do something chill and casual for once, but no one could agree on who’s apartment to go to – not that any of them even had enough space – or what to do if they stayed in, so to the club they went. 

He rubs the exhaustion from the past few days out of his eyes. The whole encounter had made him even more grumpy than usual, ready to snap at Even instead of holding his hand or kissing his neck, running his hands all over his toned stomach and then into the soft curls of his hair, while pushing their hips together –

Isak blinks back into reality when the bartender brings him another rum and coke, smiling at Isak before turning to another patron. Isak’s mood sours when he thinks of the flirty smiles the bartender had tossed towards Even’s way and his lingering eyes, and downs half of his drink in one gulp.

His boyfriend is no longer on the dance floor but coming towards him with a goofy grin and a sparkle in his light blue eyes. “Hey, baby. I’m so –”

Isak puts his glass down and throws his arms around Even’s neck, crashing their lips together in a searing kiss. Even hesitates for less than a nanosecond, wrapping his own arms around Isak’s waist and pulling him closer. Isak’s smirks as Even’s tongue slips into his mouth and he _hopes_ the bartender is watching.

He knows they’re making a scene. He knows across the room and on the dance floor, their friends are smirking too and hollering and punching each other in the guts as neanderthals do. But all that matters right now is Even in front of him, kissing him like they’re in the privacy of their own bedroom in Trondheim, away from the rest of the world trying to stare and take pieces of them.

He leaves kisses all over Even’s neck, once they have to break apart for air. “Can we go home now?”

Even laughs softly. Isak hopes he’ll keep laughing forever, the vibrations from Even’s throat tickling his lips. “Our friends are still here. We can’t just leave them.”

Isak pulls back, his lip curling into a pout. “Why not?”

“Because we traveled almost six hours to see them. We don’t have the chance that often anymore, now that your exams are about to start,” Even reminds him and Isak hates it when he’s right. The bulge in his pants is becoming more uncomfortable to ignore and Even’s reluctance to leave is less than charming.

He runs his fingers through the back of Even’s hair and kisses him harder to get the message across – and maybe, _just maybe_ , prove a point to the bartender with curious eyes. “Please?”

He knows he’s being petulant – he can see it in Even’s eyes. Their friends are hardly ever together anymore, not like the way they used to be in high school when it felt like they had all the time in the world to be with each other, now that everyone’s off at university or doing apprentice programs all over Norway. They’re lucky these days just to even get the boys together, which can sometimes happen once every couple of months, but never like this.

But the insatiable need to have his boyfriend right this very second overwhelms any remaining logic left in his brain. He grinds against Even’s, moving his body to the beat of the song, revelling as Even’s eyes nearly roll to the back of his head.

His voice sounds perfectly guttural as he says, “Okay, _okay_ , we’ll go. Let’s say goodbye, at least?”

Isak hates corniness and cheesiness and all that sappy stuff Even finds endearing during romance movies, but he smiles at the boy in front of him, cast in a halo-like glow under the neon lights. He traces his finger along Even’s jaw and whispers, “I love you.”

It’s humanly impossible for Even to hear him whisper in a room this chaotic and loud, but he grins back and kisses him. “Elsker deg.”

He keeps tight onto Isak’s hand as he leads them back to their friends. He makes up some half-hearted excuse that Isak isn’t feeling well and needs to go home, but their friends see right through it, as they always do, making fun of him for being so damn whipped.

Isak pays them little attention, instead focusing on the back of Even’s figure. He imagines the older boy lifting the white tee-shirt off of him, the curve of his hips glowing under the fairy lights of their bedroom. He knows his bedroom eyes are in full effect and he might even be drooling, just staring at his boyfriend, but he can’t bring himself to care.

Even finally turns back around, still laughing and shaking his head. “Let’s go before Magnus starts cat-calling us again.”

Isak raises his middle finger to Magnus with a cheeky wink and sticks his tongue out, following after Even as they push through the crowd of sweaty bodies. _Even, Even, Even,_ he thinks with a dumb smile and squeezes his hand even tighter.

But then the rum and coke really starts to hit.

Isak’s world spins in hazy circles but he can tell that his favorite song is now suddenly booming from the club’s speakers. He stops abruptly, staring in sudden awe at the dance floor.

Even turns and raises his eyebrow. “You good?”

Isak just points to the ceiling as if that’s supposed to mean anything. He starts swaying his hips to the music, mouthing the lyrics to Even in what’s supposed to be a seductive manner, until he gets the hint.

Even tilts his head back and snorts. “Oh, so now you want to dance?”

“Dance with me,” Isak tells him and wraps his arms around his neck. “ _Break my bed, don’t make me wanna stay_ ,”

“I thought you didn’t want to stay! And it’s corny when I ask you to dance with me, but it’s not when you serenade me in the middle of the dance floor?” Even laughs and the sound carries into Isak’s ears, right into his bloodstream. It injects him with a high he could never get from smoking and he involuntarily lets out a soft giggle. 

He’s a lightweight, he knows this. A small boy with a very skinny frame who’s never really been known for being able to hold his alcohol. He’s already had a couple of beers with Even before going to the pregame at Jonas’s, two shots of tequila at the pregame before coming to the club, and now two rum and cokes. 

“You’re always corny,” Isak says, pretending he’s not borderline wasted. “So that means it’s okay when I am because I’m never corny.”

“Except when you’re drunk?”

“I’m not drunk!” A very drunk Isak protests in shock, slightly pulling away from Even. The world spins a little bit faster as the song changes and he grabs back onto Even tighter simply because he doesn’t want to get lost in the crowd. 

“Okay, Is,” Even laughs again and traces his finger down Isak’s cheek. “Whatever you say.”

Isak watches his full lips as he laughs, thinking they would look and _feel_ much better pressed against his, and closes his eyes to kiss him fiercely.

I.

When he opens his eyes again, the bright lights are ugly and fluorescent and everyone is sweaty and zombie-like. A girl in front of him has mascara streaks running down her pale face. A boy behind her is missing a shirt. The floor is covered in confetti, and so is Isak, even though he has no recollection of ever seeing confetti until now.

Even’s holding onto his arm, trying to keep up with the trickle of their friends still at the club. It’s just Jonas, Eva, Noora, Magnus, and Vilde now and Isak wonders why everyone’s so intent on leaving when the fun has just started.

His world is still spinning and he hears a song that might not be playing in the club hall, but instead in his own head, and dances like a limp noodle to the non-existent beat.

Eva frowns, doing a double-take when she sees him. “What’s wrong with him?”

“Isak’s obliterated,” Jonas explains. “He probably couldn’t even tell you his last name right now.”

Isak continues dancing and looks to Even. “Isn’t this your favorite song?”

Even laughs dryly. “I don’t know what song it is.”

“Is the taxi here yet?” Noora complains, fanning herself. Eva’s draped herself over her shoulders, playing with the strands of her hair. “I’m so tired.”

“I called it like ten minutes ago and it’s still not here. This is terrible customer service.” Vilde yawns loudly shaking her head as she scrolls through her phone. “I should call and complain. They should have taxis lined up out here because there are so many people who need to get home and the trams aren’t even running, so don’t they want business? What is wrong with people?”

Her voice gets higher and pitchier the more agitated she gets and it starts to mess with Isak’s vibe. He was having a nice time dancing to Even’s favorite song but the louder Vilde gets, the harder it is to concentrate on the words and it annoys him.

He catches onto the last part of her sentence, frowning once she stops talking. “What’s wrong with you?”

Vilde, Magnus, Jonas, Eva, and Noora snap their heads to him.

“What do you mean?” Vilde crosses her arms.

“Just enjoy the night, Vilde, you’re always so tense,” Isak says. He puts his hands on her shoulders and tries to get her to loosen up and looks over at Magnus. “Are you not putting out lately?”

“Isak!” Magnus chokes out, horrified. Jonas and Eva burst out laughing, while Noora covers her face to hide her chuckles. 

“What?” Isak looks around at them in confusion. “Sex is really good at releasing endorphins that are natural mood-boosters and stress relievers. I’m just saying Vilde wouldn’t be so tense if you would put out from time to time.”

“I am _not_ tense!” A very tense Vilde exclaims as Magnus shouts, “I do put out!” 

They get odd stares from the rest of the remaining club goers, including the girl with mascara streaks running down her cheeks and the boy missing his shirt. 

Vilde glares at Isak. “I’m going to outside to wait for the taxi.”

She turns on her heel and heads towards the door, Magnus shaking his head as he follows after her. Isak turns to Even and shrugs. “I should be a sex guru. Eskild would be proud that I could tell she needs to get laid.”

“You know who else needs to get laid?” Eva interrupts and turns to Jonas. “You. When’s the last time you’ve gotten laid?”

Jonas rolls his eyes. “That’s not your business.”

Eva looks at Isak. “Isak, does Jonas need to get laid?”

Behind her, Jonas’s eyes flash a warning at Isak while Noora shakes her head. “Isak, don’t answer that. None of us really need to know about anyone else’s sex life.”

Isak nods his head in agreement. “Yeah, Jonas needs to get laid.”

Jonas groans, covering his face with his hands while Eva cackles again. Even slips his hand into Isak’s and whispers into his ear, “How much did you drink tonight?”

Isak “whispers” back, “Me drinking has nothing to do with Jonas’s current dry spell.”

Jonas makes a high-pitched choking sound that Isak’s sure he’s never heard before in his life, covering his ears this time. “I’m leaving.”

He follows out the direction Magnus and Vilde had left in, Eva calling after him, “It’s okay! It’s nothing to be ashamed of –”

Noora clamps her hand over Eva’s mouth. “Oh, not you too. We should get going. Are you guys okay to get back to your hotel?”

“Yeah, we’re only ten minutes away walking and this one definitely needs to walk.” Even covers Isak’s ears with his hands with a grin as Isak swats at him. “Get home safe.”

“Okay, you too!” Noora waves as she pushes Eva towards the entrance. 

Isak manages to untangle himself from Even once they’re gone. “We should find someone for Jonas to sleep with.”

“No we should not,” Even tells him. “I’m gonna run to the bathroom real quick, then we’ll go.”

Isak watches him go with a little smile, weaving in-between the crowd of leftover clubbers to head towards the restrooms. His smile falls as he realizes he’s not the only one watching Even walk away, everyone else turning to catch a glimpse at the back of Even’s ridiculously tall, attractive figure. 

It was the trouble of being in love with someone far more attractive than you are, someone with more grace and charm, someone who smiles at strangers while waiting in line to use the restrooms. Some nights, when he has a little too much, it feels like everyone else is in love with Even too and he worries that one day his love just won’t be enough. It’s never been enough.

Every time they’re out in public, Isak watches everyone stare at Even like he’s _theirs_ and it’s not supposed to bother him because he’s a grown man – for the most part – and knows that his boyfriend is not his property nor his territory. So he pretends that it doesn’t, but he’s getting so tired. 

He turns around to the entrance, trying to walk towards the doors without stumbling all over the place. The spring air is cool against his skin as he leans back against the brick wall. The city never sleeps, the street is abuzz with taxis and other drunk young adults trying to make after party plans.

He watches them silently as he always does, thinking about what would happen if he disappeared into the chaos of it all. If everyone whirled around him like a tornado and he were to just fall endlessly, would it be a reprieve or would it be like the nights where sleep evaded him for hours and suddenly the sky was turning navy blue and he hadn’t shut his eyes once? His drunken mind thinks back to that dumb American classic film Even made him watch last month, the one about the Wizard in the ‘wonderful’ land of Oz, and how the tornado scene wasn’t supposed to be funny but Isak cackled through nearly the entire sequence. 

Even rushes out with a deep frown, nearly doing a double-take when he finally spots Isak. “There you are! I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

“I’m here,” Isak replies. The world is spinning a little bit less now, as if his head pressed against the brick is tethering him to reality once again.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were waiting out here? I was worried.” Even reaches for his hand as they walk away from the club. It’s not a far walk back to the hotel they’re staying at, but Isak wishes they would call for a taxi. His eyes are getting heavy and his movements are getting sluggish.

“The boys want to get lunch around noon tomorrow, if any of us are still alive,” Even continues talking. He rubs circles with his thumb on the back of Isak’s hand. “You should’ve seen Mahdi trying to call a taxi. He was so crossed his thumbs kept almost dialing 112!”

Isak pushes for a smile, but doesn’t say anything.

Somehow Even’s not on the brink of death and his conversation and laughter fills the night as they walk back to the hotel. By the time they get there, Isak’s so tired he’s practically dragging his feet into the door. The lobby at 4am is sparse, exhausted hotel employees standing behind their desks wishing for the sweet release of death behind their forced smiles. 

They ride up the elevator silently to the twentieth floor. Even looks to Isak as they exit, “Do you have the room key?”

Isak frowns. “No. I gave it to you before we left.”

“No, you told me you were holding onto it when we left.”

Isak twitches slightly as they approach the door to their room. “Even, come on, I’m tired.”

“I’m serious. You said you had the room key.”

“Well, I fucking don’t,” Isak snaps. “You said you did.”

“No, you said you were holding onto it.”

Even’s ability to remain eerily calm irritates Isak more than him losing the damn room key. Isak leans back against the wall and groans loudly. “Can’t you just check your pockets?”

Even pats himself down, reaching into the pockets of his jeans and pulling out discarded receipts and gum wrappers. He shrugs at Isak. “I don’t have it.”

Isak groans even louder. “So now what? We’re stranded?”

“Are you positive you don’t have it?” Even asks him slowly, as if he were talking to a damn child. 

“For the millionth fucking time, I don’t have it.”

“I’ll go down to the lobby and ask for another one,” Even says turning back towards the elevator. He pauses in his step and looks back over his shoulder with a stupid smirk. “For the record, you only told me twice.”

Isak frowns as he recalls their conversation, feeling like he told Even dozens of times that he did not have the stupid room key. But his head feels abnormally heavy on his shoulders and he slumps down against the wall instead. He thinks about counting the minutes until Even comes back, minute for minute, but he gives up after counting to ten.

He’s nearly passed out on the carpet, the first time in a while he hasn’t felt too wired to be asleep by this time in the morning, when Even returns with a new room key in hand. “They’re not going to charge us for the extra key unless we lose it, so. Let’s not lose it.”

He slides the key into the door and heads inside as Isak’s heart softens. It’s the little things Even says like, _let’s not lose it,_ instead of, _don’t lose it this time,_ that dissipate Isak’s frustration in the blink of an eye and make the world all right again. 

Even hasn’t even turned on the light yet when Isak steps towards him and kisses him, backing him towards the full-sized bed in the middle of the room. Even laughs against his lips as they fall back onto the bed and Isak kisses down his neck, while hurriedly tugging at the bottom of his shirt. 

“I thought you were tired?”

Isak’s on his knees, his green eyes pale in the dark room, lit dimly by the moonlight from the windows, stops fumbling with Even’s belt. “You really want me to stop? Because we can go to bed now, if you _really_ want…”

“For fuck’s sake, don’t stop.”

He pushes down Even’s jeans, his hand slipping into Even’s boxers, with his most innocent grin. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

II.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Isak knew he was going to wake up with the hangover from hell. 

Sunlight bursts into the room through the curtains they forgot to close last night and there’s a splitting pain in his head, as if someone is trying to slice through his brain with sharp knives. His throat is raw and dry and his stomach feels inflamed.

He looks over at Even, who’s still sleeping which sort of scares the shit out of him for a second, because Even never sleeps later than Isak. If it weren’t for the beating of his heart underneath Isak’s head, he’d have reached over to the phone on the nightstand and 112 by now.

Their clothes from last night are cluttered all over the dark grey carpet of the hotel room, the comforter bunched up at the foot of the bed. Only the thin, white, cotton sheet is draped over their naked bodies but Isak still feels hot and cold all over. He can barely make out his reflection in the dark screen of the TV hanging across the room for their bed but he can see his sweaty hair is sticking up in every direction. 

He feels that if he has to suffer himself and being awake this early in the morning, Even should too. He reaches over and lifts up one of Even’s eyelids. “Even.”

Even grumbles and tries to roll onto his side away from Isak, who’s not having it. Isak elbows him. “Even, wake up.”

He accidentally elbows him a little too hard and Even rolls off the bed with a loud thump. Isak shoots up, hardly able to ignore the pounding in his head and he starts seeing stars. “Even?! Are you okay?!”

Even grumbles from the floor, sprawled out like a starfish. “Yeah. I just like it better down here.”

Isak rolls his eyes and groans, laying back down again. His head is still swimming with pain but his vision returns back to normal. “I’m never drinking again.”

Even snorts, still on the ground. “You say that every time you wake up with a hangover.”

Isak tosses and turns on the mattress, but he’s too hot and then he’s too cold and then he’s feeling like he needs to throw up. “I mean it this time. I’m never drinking again.”

“If you say so.”

“Why the fuck are you still on the floor?”

“Because you pushed me down here.”

“I did not! I was just trying to wake you up.”

“By pushing me on the floor?”

“Just get back up here already.”

Even groans as he attempts to sit back up. “What time is it?”

Isak doesn’t want to roll over because he finally doesn’t feel like throwing up anymore. “I don’t know. Our train isn’t until tonight, anyways.”

“I know,” Even says as he gets up to a standing position. “But we told the boys we’d get lunch with them in twenty minutes.”

Isak makes a face, instead of reminding him _you told the boys we’d get lunch with them_. “I don’t think I can eat anything ever again.”

Even walks slowly over to the little sink by the door and pours tap water into two glasses, gulping one down as he crosses the room to hand the other to Isak. “Try some of this. Are you sure you don’t want to go? We won’t see them again for a while.”

Isak takes the glass, prickling with annoyance at having to move. His stomach flares up again and his head keeps pounding. “I feel like complete shit. I’m not going anywhere.”

Even merely raises his eyebrow. “Well, we do also have to check out in an hour.”

Isak groans and puts the empty glass on the nightstand. He pulls the sheets over his head and curls up into a ball to ease the pain. “Are you trying to kill me?”

He feels the bed dip beside him, the older boy laying next to him. “We can probably get our check-out time pushed back a little bit. But what do you want to say to the guys?”

Part of him wishes that they were all as hungover as he is and hugging their toilet bowls as they emptied the contents of their stomachs into it. 

He sighs loudly, knowing that he’ll throw up at least twice during lunch this afternoon, and sits up. “They better fucking worship on the ground we walk on for getting up to meet them in this state.”

“Okay,” Even snorts as he gets back up. “I’m gonna shower. You joining me?”

Isak nods, breathing in and out of his nose to control his queasiness. Even looks down at the floor as he steps over their hastily discarded clothes from the night before and frowns.

“What?”

Even bends down and picks up a black plastic card, holding it between his fingers. Isak frowns himself until he realizes what it is. “Where’d you find that?”

“Sticking out of the pocket of _your_ jeans,” Even scoffs. “Did you even check your pockets last night before blaming me?”

Isak’s about to indignantly huff that of course he checked his fucking pockets, when it occurs to him that he remembers next to nothing of last night _except_ for their argument outside their hotel room. Where he whole-heartedly believed in the moment that Even was supposed to have been holding onto the room key and that his boyfriend had lost it when he didn’t find it in his pockets. 

And he most definitely did not check his.

Isak gives him a sheepish grin. “I’ll do that thing you like in the shower?”

III.

Later, it rains during the train ride back to Trondheim. 

They wanted to stay as long as they could with their friends in Oslo for the holiday weekend, so they booked their tickets for the last train leaving on Monday night. Most of them had followed Isak and Even to the platform, waving as they boarded the train and looked for them outside the windows.

Jonas, although still a bit miffed that Isak brought his sex life up in front of his ex-girlfriend, pushed through the crowds to be front and center, waving as Isak and Even’s train rolled away with Eskild. Magnus and Vilde had already left after the boys had gotten lunch and Mahdi had dinner plans with his own family. Mutta, Mikael, and Adam stood with Jonas, pretending to wipe away their tears or run after the train.

Isak watched them all with a small smile, annoyed with the heavy feeling in the middle of his chest. He liked Trondheim and he liked being at university, where the class schedule was much more laid back and he didn’t have to wake up until noon if he felt like it. He worked in a research lab with a professor he really liked from his first year and he lived in a comfortable apartment with Even not more than ten minutes away from campus. He liked Trondheim.

But he also liked playing video games with Jonas and watching his best friend get so competitive his ears turned red and he started cursing in Spanish, and being able to walk to his favorite coffee shop and know the nice old woman behind the register would forget to charge him for the pastry he bought when he was in a hurry and on his way to school. Every time he left Oslo, that heavy feeling returned with a vengeance.

The rain falls outside blurring the view of Mjøsa as they speed by. Even snores lightly next to Isak, his head tilted back against the headrest. The lights in the train cabin are dim to accommodate sleeping passengers, but Isak can only ever fall asleep when he’s wasted anymore. He wishes he could see the lake tonight because swimming always used to calm him down as a child and even though he has no desire to go swimming in Mjøsa, he likes the familiarity of seeing the lake on the train ride back to Trondheim. 

He doesn’t close his eyes once for the next few hours, alternating between listening to music and charging his phone. The train arrives at the platform in Trondheim close to 05:30 and everyone groggily wakes up, Even included, stretching and rubbing their eyes. 

In the row behind them, Isak notices a girl about their age, with long blonde hair and bright blue eyes stealing looks at Even as he stretches, his white tee-shirt riding above his toned hips. Isak rolls his eyes as she blushes and looks away, yet steals _another_ glance when Even rolls his shoulders back.

“You’re doing it on purpose,” Isak mutters.

Even frowns. “What?”

Despite yawning, his voice sounds husky after waking up from a deep sleep. Isak likes that voice very much, but much more when they’re in their bed, away from the world, and Even’s smiling at him instead of frowning. 

Isak rolls his eyes again and points to the blonde, blushing girl in the row behind them. “ _That_.”

Even’s frown and the blonde girl’s blush only deepen when they make eye contact. She turns her head and scurries to collect her things, hurrying off the train as if steam were comically coming from her feet. Even turns back to Isak. “What are you doing?”

Isak just sighs, running his hand through his hair. “Can we just go?”

Even’s eyes look up and down Isak’s face. He nods after a moment and reaches for Isak’s hand, clasping their fingers together. 

It’s still raining when they leave the station and neither of them thought to bring an umbrella. Even swings their hands back and forth together as they walk, humming to himself. 

As they approach a street light near a bridge, Even turns to Isak with a smirk that makes him wary. Before Isak can ask, _what are you up to_ , Even unlocks their fingers and starts dancing. 

Or what he will later claim was _dancing_ , but it looks more like his long legs are flailing all over the place and he’s stomping all over the ground. They’re both getting more and more drenched by the second, but then Even starts to sing in the middle of the sidewalk, reaching for the pole of the street light.

“I’m _singing_ in the rain,” Even sings far too happily for nearly six in the morning after a long train ride. “I’m _singing_ in the rain!”

Isak covers his mouth to keep from laughing, trying to maintain his demeanor. He’s tired and cold and hungry, and is far too aware of the other people around them to find this properly amusing, but Even looks absolutely ridiculous like this and there is something very entertaining about his lanky, six-foot tall boyfriend swinging on a pole in the rain.

Isak reaches for his hand and tries to yank him back. “Come on, people are staring.”

“Let them stare!” Even exclaims. 

“It’s like six in the morning.”

“So? When’s your first class? 14:00?” He keeps on spinning around, completely drenched from the rain. Unlike Isak, he doesn’t shiver from the cold.

“I’m tired, Ev,” Isak whines, his smile disappearing. People _were_ staring and it’d been a long, stiff train ride. Isak just wants to be dry and warm and curled up in bed, with his boyfriend to himself instead of all these random people. 

Even hops down finally and falls into step with Isak, reconnecting their hands. “Did you sleep at all on the train?”

“Yeah, a little,” Isak lies. 

The familiarity of their neighborhood is welcoming, at least, as they trudge through the rain towards their apartment, but Isak’s heart dips lower and lower in his stomach the closer they get to their door. They have so much more space now, an actual bedroom that can fit their full-sized bed and Even’s insane movie collection, as well as a bathroom where they can both stand next to each other and brush their teeth in the morning without having to stand elbow to elbow. 

When they get inside the apartment, they can leave their duffels by the door and kick off their shoes without stumbling all over each other. Isak thinks he should be grateful and appreciative for the space, but he misses being able to just walk a few steps and falling face-first onto the bed. He misses how much sunlight could come through the windows and how the bed was so close to the kitchen, so that he could smell whatever Even was cooking.

They shake off their wet clothes but Isak’s too tired to join Even in the shower, so he just slumps to their bedroom and curls up under their thick blankets. 

He had a good weekend, he always does whenever they go home. He saw all of his friends in the same place for the first time in almost two years, he even had a cordial dinner with Even and his parents, and he even got to stay in a really nice hotel room all weekend.

But he wishes it never happened, so that when he came back to his cold bed he didn’t feel quite so empty.

IV.

Isak passes his midterms, even though he was afraid he wasn’t going to.

He passes them all because for weeks all he does is study and create flashcards and pick up extra hours in the lab. He takes so many notes during his classes that his hand cramps up before the lecture’s even half-over and studies them word for word until his scratchy handwriting is ingrained behind his eyes every night he tries to go to sleep. He listens to Ted Talks every day he walks to campus and reads his textbooks religiously in the library. 

It keeps him from thinking about Oslo and his friends which keeps him from feeling empty so it works, to some extent. But studying for midterms can’t be his drug of choice forever and after his midterms are over, Even wants to take him out and celebrate.

They go to a bar for burgers and tacos, and Isak off-handedly says something that makes Even laugh so hard, he snorts beer out of his nose.

They both stare in horror at the plate of chicken tacos before them that have now been desecrated by beer that came out of Even’s nose. Isak makes eye contact with Even, before starting to laugh so hard his stomach hurts.

“This is all your fault.” Even’s voice comes out muffled, his hands still covering his mouth in shame. “I have never done that before in my entire life.”

“I didn’t even say anything that funny.”

“Still your fault. These people are staring at me like I have three heads!”

Even says it jovially, but as Isak looks around, he realizes that everyone _is_ staring at Even like they always are. They don’t look at him like he’s some alien, but more like they’re waiting for him to start walking down a runway, with a fan blowing his hair back and the spotlight shining down on him, bringing out how blue his eyes are. 

The brief bubble of joy that had taken over the cold feeling in his stomach disappears and he reaches for his own beer, tipping his glass back as he changes the subject. “Too bad those chicken tacos were good.”

“What do you mean, ‘too bad’? They’re still good,” Even says as he pokes at them.

Isak frowns. “I’m not eating those.”

“Don’t be such a priss.”

“Then you eat them. The beer came out of _your_ nose anyways.”

Even considers it. He gingerly picks up one of the soft-shelled tacos, now drenched in Dahls Pils, and brings it to his mouth, hesitating a second before eating it. He chews slowly. Very slowly. Swallows with effort. “Not that bad.”

Isak snorts and finishes off the rest of his beer, gesturing to the waiter. “Oh, sure. Eat the rest.”

Their waiter comes over to their table, looking twice at the ruined tacos. Even shakes his head. “We’re finished with those. Another round, please.”

“So you admit defeat?”

“I admit nothing.”

Isak chuckles, looking back around. Everyone’s turned back to their own tables by now. He likes the atmosphere of the bar – dim lighting, raised booths, contemporary music softly playing from the overhead speakers. The wallpaper is golden and red, which makes it feel fancier than it should be, but the bar’s mainly filled with students and young adults in groups or on dates. The bartenders are all girls with big smiles behind a wooden counter with beer taps.

He thinks he can grow to like this place.

After the beer-taco fiasco with Even, he comes back on Monday night just for a beer after class. One of the bartenders, a blonde girl named Molly with freckles across her nose and big brown eyes, is in his sociology class and says he should come around more often.

So he comes again on Tuesday after his classes because Even’s across town working late and Isak has nothing better to do. And then again on Wednesday afternoon because he’s bored and doesn’t have to go into the lab that day. And then on Thursday when Even tells him that his coworkers invited him out to dinner and that they should get there around 19:00 or so, but Isak hates going places where he only knows Even and feeling like he’s a drag to the conversation. 

“Skogstad’s actually not that hard to understand, he just talks too fast,” Molly says about their professor, who Isak’s sure came to class drunk that day so Isak felt it was only right he reward himself with a beer. “As long as you remember everything he says during class, you pass the exam with flying colors.”

Molly’s the one who can be hard to understand sometimes because of her thick Bergen accent. Isak’s already had three beers and narrows his eyes. “Do you know a girl named Eva?”

“Eva what?”

“Eva Mohn. She lived in Bergen, like, eight years ago.”

Molly rolls her eyes. “Oh of course, because I know everyone who comes in and out of Bergen from the past eight years.”

Isak thinks about texting Eva and asking her if she knows a girl named Molly but he’s not much of a casual texter and he hasn’t really spoken to Eva sober as a casual friend in almost a couple years. The last time he talked to her like a friend they were both drunkenly discussing Jonas’s lack of a sex life.

He hasn’t heard from Jonas that much either in the past couple of weeks, wondering if his friend had remedied his situation yet. 

“Are you single?” Isak asks.

Molly blinks in surprise, blushing furiously under the dim lights of the bar. “Oh. Um, well, I am flattered you’d think of me like that, Isak, but I –”

Isak bursts out laughing before she can finish her train of thought. “Oh no, I have a boyfriend. A very, very hot boyfriend. But I also have a very hot best friend who hasn’t been laid in a while. Here, let me give you his number.”

Molly narrows her eyes. “How are you already drunk when it’s not even 18:00?”

Isak frowns, looking at the clock behind him. He does already feel the beers making his lips looser and him giddier than usual, but it can’t _only_ be 18:00. Even doesn’t have to be at that dinner for another hour, but Isak’s sure it has to be nearly midnight.

“I’m not drunk.”

“Your cheeks are so flushed right now, I would have thought you were wearing make-up if I didn’t know better. No more beer for you.”

“Yeah, just wait until I hook you up with my friend.”

“Isak!” Molly exclaims in horror, but Isak’s already dialing Jonas’s phone number and pressing the phone to his ear. There’s no easy way to get around the bar counter and stop him, so she tries leaning over and swatting at him unsuccessfully.

“ _Hey, Isak,_ ” Jonas answers when he picks up his call. _“What’s up?”_

“It’s me!” Isak says cheerily over Molly snapping at him to knock it off. “I’m at a bar with Molly, a very pretty girl from my sociology class, who can help you out with your problem.”

“ _What’s my problem_?”

“You’re not getting laid,” Isak “whispers” into the phone. Molly groans so loud that the patrons on the other side of the bar start looking at them funny.

“ _Isak_ !” Jonas nearly shouts into the phone. _“I didn’t tell you that,_ _ months ago _ _, for you to tell the whole world!”_

Jonas sounds so upset that Isak almost imagines smoke coming out of his ears on either side and tries to suppress a chuckle, but Jonas hears it anyway.

“ _Are you seriously laughing right now?”_

“No, I’m just trying to help –”

_“Stop getting so fucking drunk all the time and telling everyone my business, Isak. That would help.”_

Jonas hangs up before Isak can tell him he’s _not_ drunk, thank you very much. Isak puts the phone back down on the counter and looks to Molly. “Can you believe he thinks I’m drunk?”

“You are drunk.”

“Maybe he’ll come around in a few days.”

“Isak, you should go home.” Molly shakes her head as she pours him a glass of water. “I’m not looking for anyone right now.”

Isak pushes the glass back towards her and stands up, holding the wooden counter between them to keep from stumbling. Behind her, the clock strikes 18:00. “I’m not drunk.”

She looks at him with pity and turns to help another patron who’s come in, not even waving goodbye. It’s okay, Isak thinks, as he makes his way towards the door. They’re not _really_ friends.

He’s hit with a cool breeze of spring air when he steps outside and makes his way towards his neighborhood. He stops abruptly when he remembers what time it is and that Even hasn’t even made it to his company dinner yet.

The cobblestone street in front of him is filled with different bars, so he lifts his finger and closes his eyes, spinning around. Once he’s properly dizzy, he stops and opens his eye to the bar he’s pointing to.

It’s seafood-themed and Isak doesn’t really like seafood, but beer is beer so in he goes. It’s much more crowded than the burger and tacos bar but he likes the noise, likes the congregation of people sitting in front of the TV, watching football. 

It’s so loud and he can’t hear his own thoughts, telling him to call Jonas back and apologize for whatever made him so upset. He should call Even and ask him to not go to his dinner plans but he doesn’t want to be needy so he buys himself a beer.

Halfway through his beer, Mahdi calls him and because Isak already knows what he’s going to say, he doesn’t answer. He tries to drink more slowly, though, because it bothers him that Jonas thought he was drunk even though he was over six hours away and only on the phone. 

And because he doesn’t have enough money to buy a fifth beer.

But then Even calls him and his heart warms up inside, instead of the fuzzy feeling his brain gets after copious amounts of beer.

“Hi,” Isak says into the phone. “Aren’t you supposed to be at dinner?”

 _“Yeah, I’m leaving in a few. Where are you? I was going to ask if you’d changed your mind about coming_.”

“So you’re not calling because Jonas put you up to it?”

_“Well, I was waiting for you to come home, but then he did message me thinking that you’re drunk. Are you really drunk? It’s not even dinnertime.”_

“Well, I don’t even eat dinner anymore, so jokes on him,” Isak brags. In his head, it sounds so much better than how it comes out.

_“What? What do you mean you don’t eat dinner anymore? Where are you?”_

Now, his brain’s starting to feel fuzzy. “I’m across the street from that burger and tacos place we went to last week at some seafood bar. I met a bartender named Molly and she’s in one of my sociology classes and she told me I should stop by more often so I did. But then she got upset with me because I tried to hook her up with Jonas, because he hasn’t been having much of a sex life lately, and then he got mad at me. So the whole world is mad at me.”

Telling Even the story of the past hour’s events brings that heavy feeling back into his chest he’s been trying so damn hard to ignore so he decides he’ll have to go another week without dinner and orders another beer.

_“I’m not mad at you. But you shouldn’t be telling other people about Jonas’s sex life. You wouldn’t like it if he told people about yours.”_

“Yeah, but I was just trying to help,” Isak says. “So that makes my intentions okay.”

 _“No, it doesn’t,”_ Even chuckles airily. _“If he wanted you to help him have sex, he’d tell you. Listen, I’m ditching the work dinner and coming your way.”_

“Why?” Isak groans.

_“Did you just groan?”_

“No.”

_“I think you did.”_

“You can’t just ditch your coworkers. They all love you.”

The heaviness in his chest grows stronger and it just makes him irrationally more upset than he’s so… not okay right now. That’s the only way to explain it. He has the world’s best boyfriend and a great apartment and a great education and there’s nothing that should be wrong with him but everything just is.

“Look, I don’t need you smothering me, okay?” Isak says with a bit more attitude than he intended. He cringes and hangs up the phone before he can hear Even respond and feel even worse. His beer tastes watery this time around and his phone’s almost dead. 

The feeling comes anyway. 

V.

He stumbles home nearly an hour later, expecting to find Even there, sitting in the living room with the lamp on because it’s starting to get dark outside.

It unnerves him when Even’s in fact, not there, and Isak suspects he deserves it for being such a brat. He wonders when Even’s finally going to realize he’s not worth all the trouble and leave him for someone better, someone hotter, someone smarter. His love has never been enough. 

NTNU is full of students like that. Students who were at the top of their class in high school, like Isak, and can adjust to being away from home and everything they’ve ever known, unlike Isak. He stumbles through the door and into the living room, sprawling out on the couch like a starfish. 

At some point, he must have dozed off because he’s suddenly shaken awake by a very worried Even. It’s very dark outside now and the lamp’s on in the corner of the room. “Jesus, I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

Isak’s still a bit drunk. He only admits that he’s drunk now because the world is spinning even though Even’s no longer shaking him awake, and there’s a weird, dry taste in his mouth. “What.”

“I thought you were at the seafood bar! I got there and I couldn’t find you, even though I looked everywhere. Then I went to the burger and tacos place, where I spoke to the bartender named Molly, and she’d said you left a long time ago.” Even’s kneeling down on the couch before him, running his fingers through Isak’s hair. He nearly purrs like a cat. “You have to eat dinner, Isak.”

Isak yawns, the heaviness in his chest anchoring him through the couch, through the floor, through the ground, through the several layers of Earth and into the planet’s molten core. “You should have gone to yours.”

“You’re drunk on a Thursday –”

“It’s not the worst thing in the world, is it?” Isak sits up, even though he’d rather stay in that lying position with Even’s fingers running through his hair for the rest of eternity. “There are people that are dying out there in the world and me getting drunk on a Thursday night is not the worst thing.”

“Okay, it’s not but –”

“You know, you treat me like such a child sometimes.” Isak’s standing now and beginning to pace, even though he’d rather be sitting so that his head doesn’t spin so much. “‘Don’t do this, don’t do that.’”

Even rises to a standing position as well and crosses his arms. “When have I said that to you?”

“‘Don’t tell people about Jonas’s sex life because you wouldn’t like it if he told other people about yours.’ I’m not a child. That’s shit you say to a child.”

Even sighs. “Isak, you only do this when you’re drunk. I only tell you not to say shit like that when you’re drunk and you’re not in control of your behavior.”

“I am in control of my behavior,” Isak says stubbornly. It’s _his_ fault he’s so torn up about going back to Oslo and hanging out with all of his friends only to be bored and miserable when he comes back to Trondheim. It’s his fault he’s so miserable about all the great opportunities in his life, so how should having a few beers every now and then change that? It’s only amplifying what was already there.

“Alright, well if you are then, I don’t want to have this conversation with you right now until you’ve calmed down,” Even tells him and heads towards the sink. 

“Fine,” Isak says, staring at the floor. He ignores the lump in his throat that won’t go down because of how fucking _heavy_ his heart feels. He turns to Even, who’s back is facing him. “You’re just running away from your problems because you don’t want to face that there is a problem.”

Even turns around, eyeing him sadly. “Yeah. There is a problem. But I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner.”

His voice is soft, even though Isak wishes Even would yell at him already. He wishes this could be solved with something as simple as Isak getting down on his knees in the shower, but he’s so tired. 

He heads towards their bedroom and keeps the light off, slipping under the covers in darkness despite it barely being 20:00. His head hurts and he knows somewhere in the back of his mind, he’s going to wake up with the hangover from hell. 

VI.

The morning comes after a dreamless sleep, the sun shining into their room through the window. Soft rays of light splay out over their bed and Even’s sleeping form next to him.

Isak’s mouth is dry, like sandpaper, and his eyes are crusty. He feels like a living corpse with dry and brittle bones that have stopped responding to his brain. He solemnly swears on his final exam in organic chemistry that he will never drink again.

After what must be hours of Isak lying in pure agony, Even starts to stir next to him. Isak can tell he’s beginning to wake up because he’s spent so many sleepless nights watching Even’s chest rise and fall as he slept, breathing in and out softly through his mouth. Even’s breathing becomes more ragged when he wakes up; he sniffs through his nose a couple times and exhales a long breath.

Isak hesitantly looks at him until his blue eyes blink open and find him.

“Hi.”

Despite everything, Even always smiles when he first sees him in the morning. “Hi.”

Isak’s too hungover to do anything but crave the sweet release of death. 

“You need Advil,” Even decides as his eyes scan him over. He sits up and swings his legs off of the bed. “And water.”

Isak listens to the pitter-patter his footsteps make against the hardwood floor towards the kitchen and tries to figure out how to apologize for being the absolute worst. He wishes his hangover robbed him of the memories of last night but he remembers spewing nasty, nasty things at Even, who deserves so much better.

Even comes back with a full glass of water and Advil for Isak who takes them with a soft-spoken thank you. The silence stretches between them, Isak fully aware he needs to make the first move but it has to be just right. If he says the wrong thing, he can’t take it back and then the silence might linger on forever.

“What I said last night was inexcusable and I’m so sorry,” Isak starts, once his head has stopped pounding so much. He wants to say, _I didn’t mean it_ , but he did and Even knows he did – he just didn’t mean it about Even.

“Last night, I couldn’t really sleep so I was just thinking about some things,” Even says. His hand finds Isak’s over the covers and he locks their fingers together. “I like it here. I like it a lot. I like my job, I like my coworkers, and I like this place. It’s cool being able to explore different parts of the neighborhood and still finding new places, even after a year. Everything here still feels new. Being back home feels old.”

He starts to rub circles on the back of Isak’s hand and turns on his side so that he’s facing Isak now, the sunlight bright in his eyes. “But I miss it.”

Isak hears the unspoken invitation to finally say it: that he’s homesick. 

And he never, ever, ever in a million years thought he _would_ feel homesick and he doesn’t want to feel it, but he does. And even though Isak was nothing but a brat to him last night, Even’s still here with him in bed. Still encouraging him to talk rather than forcing him to admit his feelings. He’s always so patient and so gentle that Isak’s afraid the world and all of its ugly edges will hurt Even more than it will embrace him. 

So with a deep breath, he tries to smooth out the sharp, prickly feelings radiating off of him and explain the not okay pit that’s been growing in his stomach. “Sometimes, when we come back from being home I just feel like I’m never going to be happy again. And I don’t know why. Maybe I just miss everyone too much. I’m just so aware of that feeling now that whenever we do go home, I can’t even enjoy it anymore because I know it’s going to be over soon. And then I can’t sleep. I stay up for hours just staring at nothing, even though I’m tired.”

He holds Even’s hand tighter. “And I’m so tired that I can’t even focus anymore. I just see everyone else around us staring at you, and all of a sudden I’m angry. I just get angry that it feels like you’re not only mine. It’s dumb because you’re not my property, but I don’t – I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

Even pulls him in for a hug. “You’re twenty. You’re going through the terrible twos all over again.”

“Shut up,” Isak murmurs into his chest, smiling despite himself.

“I’m serious. It’s been known to happen to stressed out university students. They suddenly throw tantrums all the time as all of this new sensory stuff is hitting them. It’s a really serious epidemic, actually. You shouldn’t make fun.”

“So why didn’t you go through it?” Isak quips.

“Who says I’m not? Every toddler experiences the terrible twos differently and so does every twenty-year-old. Maybe I’m still going through it.”

“Yeah, but you’re nicer than me.”

Even scoffs. “Nice is boring. Give me a man who snaps at me after I spend hours looking for him at several different bars like a madman, instead of kissing me when I come home tired and stressed.”

Isak covers his face with his hands, even though Even’s laughing now, and groans, “I’m _sorry_. I’m the worst –”

“Isak, you’re not the worst,” Even tells him softly, removing his hands from his face and staring into his eyes. “And you’re not the only one who feels homesick.”

The corners of Isak’s lips start to curl into a smile. “But how can I be homesick, when you’re my home?”

Even looks back at him with a serious smile, for all of maybe five seconds, before he bursts into laughter. Isak would lie and say that the sound didn’t warm up his entire body, reviving him from his near-death state only minutes earlier, but he’s too offended to even feel the life coming back into him.

“Isak, that was the cheesiest thing you have ever said to me and I am so upset you did not give me a head’s up so I could film it.”

Isak rolls his eyes. “What the fuck? Here I am, trying to be _nice_ , and you’re just making fun of me? I’m never being nice to you again.”

“Good,” Even laughs as he leans in close. “I don’t want nice. I want _you_.”

Isak should be even more offended that he’s not synonymous with nice, but as Even kisses him on his lips, on his chin, on his neck, and all over his skin it’s hard to really care.

Even pulls away for a slight second, grinning as Isak whines. “You should apologize to Jonas, though.”

Isak glares at him. “Really? You’re gonna mention another man’s name in bed?”

“Just saying.” Even smiles. “I love you.”

The words are right on the tip of Isak’s tongue, but then Even grins like the Chesire cat and slips his hand into Isak’s pants and he decides to show his love in other ways. 

_who’s gonna tell me i’m out of touch, when the lights come on and i’m still fucked up_

_it’s true, i hope it’s you_

_who’s gonna call me on all my shit, when i go too far and you’re sick of it_

_it’s true, i hope it’s you_

_baby, i hope that it’s you_

**_out of touch_ ** _x_ **_dove cameron_ **

**Author's Note:**

> random fact: while writing this fic, i realized how much i actively avoid using the word “joy” in my writing, because it’s my name. this is the third time i’ve ever referenced “joy” as a feeling in my work! 
> 
> another random fact: originally i wrote the conversation about homesickness where isak and even talk about missing oslo/being back home between mahdi and isak because he deserves so much more love than he gets, but then i remembered the point of the fic was that even was always the one bringing isak back down to earth and mahdi ended up feeling majorly out of character. but it was kinda cute, not gonna lie. just throwing that out there. 
> 
> hope you liked it! thanks for reading x


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